Guns'n'Ivys A Tale of Love, Blood, Rifles & Ivys
by GothicReaper
Summary: *New and completely refurbished* When Shepard and Garrus meet again on Omega after two years, much has changed, and their friendship evolves to become something deeper. But will it be enough to stand their ground against the Reapers and the odds of an early grave? Covers ME2, 3 and beyond. Romance-driven, rated M for language and sexy scenes. Uh, wait, make that smut.
1. Chapter: Death's rejected

**AN**:

Hey guys, I did a major, and desperately needed makeover of my story.

But I really hope you will still enjoy it as much as I do :)

- Last but not least, I want to give my special thanks and a big hug to RevolvingAbyss, whose efforts, dedication and incredible belief in my talent constantly spurs me to push my limits! Without you, my story (and most likely my writing talent, too) would have drowned in indifference. Thank you :) -

*All things belonging Bioware, belong Bioware. But the writing is my own.*

* * *

Chapter 1 ~ Death's rejected

Thump…

Thu-thump…

"..pard…"

Thu-thump… thu-thump…

"…ake up…"

Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

"…won't wak…"

"…try …gain…"

Thu-thump-thu-thump-thu-thump-thu-thump-thu-thump

"Shep… eed… wake…"

Air. Noises. A pulsing drum. Was this… My. Heart? Cold. Dark. But not black.

Pain…

"Shepard!"

_Breath!_

I inhaled with a sharp gasp and awareness rushed into me as through a flood gate opened wide. Everything was dark… I… I couldn't see! Alarm and confusion rocked my mind until I realized that my eyes were still closed. For a small eternity, I struggled against the weight of my lids. Darkness split into a line of light. There were… blurry colors and bright patches. From somewhere to my right I heard soft beeps. Their unnerving pattern was disrupted by a distant alert's rising and falling. I wrinkled my nose at a biting scent. Antiseptics.

Where? Where was I… ?

I shivered. Below me was a hard cool surface and its chill had spread from by back throughout my whole body. Heavy arms protesting, I hugged myself for warmth. Numb fingers touched bare skin. _My_ bare skin.

"Shepard, you need to wake up!"

The high-pitched female voice that had wakened me cut through my consciousness again. Was this hell? It certainly wasn't heaven, for heaven would have greeted me with a glass of finest bourbon and a chair on the beach, instead of freezing limbs and voices yelling at me.

Slowly, my vision cleared and tried to make sense of my environment. The first thing I saw was a ceiling painted white and neon tubes. One of them was flickering faintly. I turned my head sideways and saw… cabinets. Flasks. Screens. Strange apparatus. Was this… a lab? There was more. Tubes. Syringes. Infusion bags. Gray walls forming a symbiotic ugliness with equipment made of stainless steel. Together they radiated all the sterile charms of an operating room. Or a high-tech morgue. Somehow, I had always imagined hell to be more the fire and brimstone kind of place...

An orange emblem, rotating on one of the screens caught my eyes. It was hexagon-shaped, opened at the bottom and flanked left and right by a line. Oh, crap. Mesmerized, I stared at it unmoving, while my thoughts jumped about like a freaked-out squirrel that couldn't find its nut. I squeezed my eyes shut.

_This isn't real. This isn't real…_

However, when I opened them again, the emblem was still there. Cerberus. Heaven help me, I had woken in a frigging Cerberus lab. On a steel table! Naked! My stomach heaved and I quickly subdued the images of gross experiments performed on my defenseless body before they initiated a chain reaction that would end with me falling into mindless panic.

"We have a Code Red! Now, get your ass moving!"

Even on the brink of throwing up I stiffened. My urges to act on orders issued by random strangers were already low on ordinary days – and this one dragged 'ordinary' out to the backyard and blew its brains out with a sawed-off shotgun. I opened my mouth to tell the woman about this special place where she could shove her commands – and all that came out was a meager croak.

_What the…_

An explosion boomed somewhere below and cut off my silent protests. A split second later its shock wave reached the room with a low tremor, rattling flasks and vials. I smelled smoke. Short bangs started pounding in a furious staccato not far away. Gunfire. I gritted my teeth and pressed my heels further against the hard surface.

"Shepard, what are you doing for god's sake? MOVE!"

Fat chance. My fingers clasped the edges of the table in a death grip, while all my muscles tensed at the unanimous plan to stay put till crack of doom. The gunfire drew closer. And closer. The smoke thickened.

Oh, to hell with it. I'd regret this later.

I rolled to the side and worked myself upright; each movement sending short pangs along my nerves. An army of electrodes plastered my chest. I ripped them off, forcing the ECG machine into a fit of anxious shrieks before it died down. Steeling myself with a deep breath, I slid down the table. Only… completely unnoticed, my femoral muscles had turned into a numb, useless mass. My butt hit the floor tiles with a loud thump.

_Oy. May I present: Commander Shepard, creation's crowning grace_.

A sharp tug at my right arm brought my attention to the IV sticking in there. I pulled the syringe out, fighting another moment of nausea at the feel of the needle twitching under my skin. _Ugh!_ Still, compared to how the rest of my body felt, this was picnic. Picnic in leisure land.

I started pounding at my thighs until sensation returned then I reached up to the table and hoisted myself up. Somehow I even managed to stay upright and hang on to the last shards of my dignity. Guess it served me right; why hadn't I gone down with my ship, as a decent commander would have? Wait… I had gone down with the Normandy… I had shoved Joker into the emergency pod and then…

"Watch out! Mech!" The Cerberus woman suddenly shouted, the instant I heard a sound coming from the door.

Caught in reflex, I shoved the table at the sound's direction and dropped without hesitation. A bullet hissed past me, only a fraction of an inch away from my left temple. I heard how the table crashed into something and rolled to the side to get back on my feet. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, thankfully overriding any feelings of pain or modesty. I tossed blonde hair out of my face to find the mech caught under the overturned table, struggling to get free. The table heaved. With two leaps I reached the mech's arm trapped on my side. It was the one holding the gun. I wrenched it free, damaged two robot fingers permanently in the process, and leaned over the table's edge. The pistol spat thunder, and the mech's motions stopped.

Exhaling, I rested my forehead for a short moment against the cool edge of the tabletop. The Cerberus woman had saved my life. This was so… wrong. All along I had been provided with a triangular hole and now the universe tried very hard to make me squeeze a square through it. It wasn't working.

I pushed away from the table - and other disturbing thoughts - to retreat with my precious bounty to the far end of the room; doorway in sight. I examined the gun in my hands more closely. It was decently balanced and looked almost like one of Elanus Risk Striker's – though a version I had never seen before... Still, the trigger-happy retard inside me cheered nonetheless. Certainly, this meant the tides were turning in my favors.

"Shepard, you need to go… There will be more hostiles soon," the Cerberus woman spoke up again.

Yeah, right. Finally, my vocal cords found their modus operandi. "Look," I said in a raspy voice, "I don't know who you are or why you're helping me. But I know you are Cerberus." I paused, waiting for an objection. There was none. "I wouldn't trust them with my rotten garbage. Why should I trust you?"

"I'm not your enemy. The mech…"

"Proves nothing! Who are you and where are we?" _And why the hell did I wake naked on a goddamn operating table?_

"Shepard, we have no time…"

I crossed my arms below my breasts and scowled at the corner where I assumed the surveillance camera.

"Fine. I'm CO Miranda Lawson and this is the Lazarus Research Station; headquarter to one of the most ambitious projects Cerberus ever raised."

"Aha. Which is…"

"Later. Our security was breached and the mechs turned against us. They already killed most of the station's staff." The woman sighed. "So, _please_; will you get out? I'll try to keep contact and guide you to my location. I tell you the rest then."

I gave her another hard stare. "If this is a trick..." I stopped, suddenly very aware of me in my glorious nudity. Ah, yes. Commander Shepard, roaming buck naked through the halls of who-knows-what freaked-out Cerberus compound. Impressive.

Perhaps this was some weird kind of hell, after all…

"Clothes are in the locker next to you. And you need clips. There should be some in there, too."

Clips. As in ammo clips? Where did Cerberus procurement shop their supplies; antiques'R'us?

However, I said nothing and opened the locker's steel doors instead. Bright pink sweats with rows of black Cerberus emblems running down legs and sleeves stared back at me.

Oh, goodie. I had no doubts anymore: I _was_ in hell.

* * *

My world got clusterfucked at 25 minutes past noon.

I probably should mention that - quite unusual for me - it didn't happened with havoc and bright lights, but rather unspectacular in form of a few words exchanged in front of a shuttle ready to take off, where I forced two Cerberus henchmen to finally spill out the truth.

"Don't you remember, Shepard?" Miranda Lawson - dark-haired, fair-skinned and armed with a slim body that criminally advertised the Final Victory of jugs over gravitation - asked and my gaze shifted from her to Jacob Taylor - dark-skinned, broad-shouldered and from the looks he gave her presumably her booty call. Their faces were both caught somewhere between awkward silence and pitying commiseration. I felt as if an abyss had opened beneath me.

The problem was I did.

I had been sitting in the Mess and listened to Pressly moaning once again how far our efficiency had dropped since the _aliens_ left the ship. Alerts. Joker, shouting about the Normandy being attacked. Me, getting spaced. Suddenly, it was all there, including this fresh feel only a recent memory could have had. The pain. The fear. The anger at realizing I've failed. The cold darkness enfolding me. And then: nothing.

I had died. No, I _just_ had died. This was what my brain was telling me; that just two fucking hours ago I had died, while my crew and ship were turned into grillables…. And yet I was back in the game. This was frigging impossible.

_Terrific. Rejected by death. __What's next? The official confirmation that my life's universe's joke of the month? _

Miranda Lawson suddenly came one step closer and peered concerned at my eyes.

"You're alright, Shepard? Shepard?"

She flicked her fingers twice and I blinked myself out of my cynical stupor. "How long…"

"Today is the 29th of August, 2185."

I rubbed my temples. Two years. Dead for two goddamn years. And at the same time, it felt just like moments. It _were_ just moments. Oh, hell. I was trapped on a ride that was racing full tilt towards Mad City.

Slowly, I followed the two Cerberus agents into the shuttle. Really, as if I had much of choice... Behind me, Lazarus Station was slowly burning to ashes. And unfortunately, _this_ was quite usual for me.

I sat down, the shuttle lifted off and I did a quick inventory to keep my mind busy – arms: check, legs: check, fingers and toes: check. My lungs were working; my heart was beating. I concentrated and listened to my body. After five minutes I gave up. Everything seemed just normal. I sniffed. Unobtrusively, of course. No lingering odor of decay, no shuffling edge to my motions, no overpowering need to shout "Brainz" and jump at my vis-à-vis to gorge at their cerebral cortex… Nope, aside from the faint ache in my muscles, I felt as fresh and healthy as a daisy. And very alive. What reminded me of The List. Yes, the one with a capital 'T' and 'L' attached.

"Please, give me the list." I said to my illustrious saver from the lab.

"What are you talking about?" The woman asked in ignorance. I was buying not an inch of it.

"Miss Lawson – Miranda – I just found out that my dead ass was resurrected by an organization that ranks in my personal opinion not far behind batarian slaver rings and child rapists. How much patience do you exactly think I have left in me? So, stop dicking around and hand me the goddamn list or I swear you'll regret waking me before the mechs had the chance to eviscerate me in my sleep."

There. All nice and friendly. I was way above petty anger issues. Nevertheless, I added my best Shepard-will-nuke-you-stare. You never know. Lawson finally released a huff, typed something into the datapad, she had been clutching as if it was her purse and this was Omega, and placed it in my outstretched palm. I scanned it and it was long. So frigging long.

21 souls lost. Killed by something considered a myth among the rank and file of Citadel space. The day those _myths_ stopped coming to live and pounded at my door, I would thank the universe on my knees. At least I had been able to save my helmsman…

My eyes fell on the names again. Talitha Draven. 22 then. Just yesterday, I had chided her for not disembarking, while we were still docking on the Citadel. She must have already known then... And now she and her unborn child were buried six feet under. Or rather not, considering the attached footage of the crash site.

Anger was rapidly gnawing its way towards the surface and a spidery hairline crack fissured across the crystalline shell that was Shepard. Inside me, something snapped its eyes open.

_Oh, no, you won't…_

I pushed the feeling back into the dark pit where it had crawled out, and started counting from ten backwards. When I reached four, I was calm, collected and most important, in full control of myself. The grief, though, would come back later. It always did.

Lawson took the datapad back, her face transforming from mild sympathy to serious business. "I'm sorry, Shepard, I can imagine this isn't easy for you, but we have to make sure you are fully operative."

I shot her a glare.

_Translation: I want to confirm that you're not nuttier than a fruitcake before I let you off the leash._

"Miranda," Taylor interposed to my surprise, "do you really believe those questions necessary? One might think if something's off with the Commander, we'd have realized it by now." There. He did it again; his whole behavior was shouting honest and honorable soul. To find someone like him with Cerberus was disturbing. I rather liked my biases unambiguous and unquestioned.

I nodded first at Taylor to acknowledge his concern then focused on the dark-haired woman. Once again she was watching me and the world outside with this certain blend of sophisticated confidence and mildly contempt, she couldn't quite hide. Yeah, her type I knew too well. Correct to point of pain-in-the-ass, people like her loved their little checklists ticked off successively from up to down, their desk spotless clean and the remaining items on it aligned parallel to the edge, preferably ordered by size. Oh, yes, and the desks of people like me constantly ran the risk of causing an instant apoplexy among those specimens.

Just in case you hadn't noticed: I trusted her about as far as I could throw her. Granted, she was slim and I wasn't exactly weak, but it still wasn't very far.

"Thanks, but let's just get over with it. What do you need to know this time?" I asked with a sigh and dug an energy bar, I had found back in the lab behind the box of clips, from the pocket of my hideous outfit. Flavored… vanilla - yuck.

Why me?

* * *

~V~

* * *

Dead. They were all dead. Except me. I was alive...

Erash. Monteague. Mierin. Grundan Krul. Melanis. Ripper. Sensat. Vortash. Butler. Weaver. Sidonis.

Their names were burning in my mind with the intensity of an overheated barrel melting against my temple. Each brought another hot-searing bolt, that scourged my soul a bit more. They were dead because of me. It was my pride that had caused their downfall, as surely as if I'd been the one pulling the trigger.

The trap had been set; and I had walked right into it, never suspecting - until it was too late…

After allowing the initial anguish to vent in a feral howl, that send a small vorcha raiding party skittering into hiding, I was almost calm. It was a deceptive feeling. It was more like the calm before a murderous storm than anything else.

Slowly, I released the slim turian body I'd been holding in my arms. I had sat for minutes in the middle of the room we had turned into a small Armory in our hide out in one of Omega's warehouses. Gentle fingers trembling, I closed Mierin's eyes, while mumbling a short prayer for her Spirit to find home. A gesture of respect? Perhaps as well. Yet the truth was I simply couldn't bear to see the gunmetal orbs of hers, dulled and lifeless, anymore.

Shameful as it was, I still couldn't deny the sliver of relief washing through me. Relief, for although it had been oh-so tempting, I had resisted her most persistent endeavors to lure me into her bed. Perhaps on some subconscious level I had all the time anticipated that it would come to this in the end. Burying a friend was hard enough; burying a lover, though...

Yet, regardless of my steadfastness, I knew I was still condemned to add her grey eyes to those green ones already haunting me at night.

I should have never taken her into the team the first place. It was the kind of impulsive idiocy deemed to bite you in the ass rather sooner than later. But when we freed the young woman among a group of traumatized kids and adolescents, instead of breaking down into a sobbing ball like the rest, she had just stared at our small army of four avengers. Defiantly. Her body abused. Her spirit unbroken. A fire burning in her eyes. Madness? Yeah, perhaps some, but mostly it was the determination to get stronger; strong enough to have never again to experience this worst kind of helplessness. She was begging me to take her with us, like I was her savior, her only chance to become what she needed to be. How was I supposed to turn her away?

Perhaps it was simply her youth that made me now grieve her death atop the others. Where life had nothing to offer anymore for the scarred veterans fighting along my side, there still had been a chance for her. True, I just had ten years on her, but these days I felt easily twice my age. Perhaps it was because she resembled a girl I once thought to love. And sometimes? Sometimes, when our crusade exacted its toll especially hard and she told us with this persistent compassion that we _must_ not give up - then she even reminded me of Shepard.

But all of that was meaningless… Mierin would never see the sunrise she admired so much again. And neither would the others…

I got up and looked at the other corpses, slaughtered down just outside the room. They had tried to protect her, regardless that she had since long turned into one of the most dangerous members of the team. We had taught her well.

_And still not well enough..._

I blocked out the bitchy thought, grabbed a canvas bag filled with ammo that miraculously had escaped the raiders and stepped through the door. In my head the mantra of names started anew. Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Grundan Krul, Melanis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, Weaver, Sidonis. Wait. I counted again. Only ten bodies. But eleven names… There were just two turians among the dead and the other with his heavy bulk was doubtless Melanis. Sidonis was not under them. But he wasn't with me either…

Suddenly, I felt as if a bucket of iced water had been dumped upon me. The obvious explanation was like ashes in my mouth.

Betrayal.

I should have known. It was exactly what you got from allowing lenity to override better judgment.

* * *

~V~

* * *

Alive. They were all alive. Except me. I had been dead and the world simply moved on, leaving me behind. I knew I should have been relieved upon the fact all members of my former squad were still breathing, but the rising bitterness in me overshadowed any feelings of joy. Unavailable, busy, or simply vanished off-grid; in any case out of my reach right now. Great.

I reined my wandering thoughts in again. It brought my focus back to the man sitting across from me. Perhaps "sitting" wasn't the quite correct term. Wearing a suit easily three times a soldier's monthly salary and eyes glowing unnaturally, this Illusive Man did his best to look the king reclining in his throne. A king pestered by an especially ignoble peasant - namely me. After giving me another muster – _yes it's pink, get over it!_ – he spoke up again.

"Well, Shepard, how will you decide?"

That Cerberus deal… It smelled worse than fish three weeks dead. No, make that fish three weeks dead, which had been lodged up deep deep deep inside a vorcha's ass. Well, I could resume with my delusions, that I had the choice to decline his friendly offer - knowing it meant I wouldn't collect my 200 creds either, of course. But honestly, what were my options? Stranded on a station of his, without owning even a gun or a stitch… Beggars ain't no choosers, right?

"Let's assume for a minute, I'd go with this. What makes you believe I'm able to stop the events coming for us single-handedly? What if there are hundreds like Sovereign, or thousands, or millions?" Of course, just as well the Sovereign could have been the last demented relict of an ancient race, sputtering tons and tons of bull. But that would be like finding a bribe-resistant official on Illium – a miracle bordering hard on the impossible. I couldn't hold back my short bitter laugh, though, "Last time _I_ checked I was still mere mortal. Even all those pretty little _upgrades_ won't change that."

"There's more to you than you might think, Shepard. You're not just another soldier, no matter how hard you try to delude yourself. You are a symbol. When the forebodings of war arise, you will be the guiding light humanity needs to be at their strongest."

There it was. The hero stamp I'd always dreaded. If anyone was ever in for a closer look, they would see I was anything but a hero. Just a mere soldier caught in her never-ending battle against disaster spreading. And wanna hear the sordid truth? I was a lemon as commander on top of it. I lost my ship, I lost my crew. Why anyone even bothered to search for my corpse was beyond me. I answered with silence.

"I know you have your difficulties with working for Cerberus, but what about the colonies? Don't you want the means to help them; to _save_ them?" _Motherfucker._ He had me with that, and we both knew it.

"I might help you - _might_ - but there are conditions," I began slowly and held up my index finger, starting to count. "First, I'm in command; if I say a risk isn't taken, you'll accept it. Second: The team? Who's in and who's not? My decision. And the efforts to contact my old squad are kept up." I stared at him in defiance.

"Anything else?" he asked smugly.

For a split second I was tempted to throw all my bids for diplomacy overboard and ask for such nice glow-in-the-dark eyes in a gift box. Oh, yeah, that would fly.

"I need resources freely at my disposal. I'll tell you beforehand; a mission like this is cost-intensive. You can have Miranda monitor the expenses if it makes you feel better. Ah, yes - and no screening of private communication, neither mine, nor the crew's."

"You voice high demands for someone I only recently spent billions on to revive." He took a deep pull on his cigarette and exhaled through his nose. It reminded me of an angry krogan about to charge. Was it a sign for hidden distress? But so far I'd been really nice; even my little deranged smile was still safely tucked away.

"You missed one crucial point: I _never_ asked for you to bring me back from the dead." I stabbed the air in front of me with my index finger to drive my argument home. "You did all of this just for one friggin' reason - because you realized the Reapers aren't just a pretty little myth - and now you need someone to carry the can. We both knew that Sovereign was just the scout, the forerunner, of something much more dire. I _will_ see that humanity is as prepared as it can get – but it's done _my_ way.

"Ahh, and one more thing."

He gave me a sharp look. Yepp, I kept pushing his buttons. Too bad, I've never been big on reason. Interfered greatly with throwing yourself in harm's way to save the flock of fluffy ducklings.

"My terms are not open for negotiations." I crossed my arms before my chest to keep my fist from shaking at him.

At that he started to clap his hands in a mocking applause. My eyes narrowed. "Shepard, I see you are still yourself. I never expected you to accept my offer without reservations. You may have your way - as long as you don't forget who finances that expedition in the first place."

"Most unlikely. I assume Miranda will be my XO?"

He inclined his head. "Your assumption is correct. Miranda Lawson will report your progress to me."

Which meant of course, she was going to spy on me, as well. I knew a hook if I saw one.

"And Shepard? We have a common goal in this. Don't fail because of the inability to put your distrust on hold for a time."

"Don't worry. The Reapers make sure my tolerance limit has risen significantly."

"I'm glad that you see the prudence of this cooperation. In the meantime, you should go to Freedom's Progress and see the extent of the menace for yourself. The colony was the last to be abducted. We suspect someone is working with the Reapers. Find out as much as you can." His fingers tapped the console on his chair, breaking the communication.

Why did I feel as if I had just invited the devil to rape my body and take off with my soul?

* * *

When I left the holopad, Lawson was already waiting for me.

"Shepard, here's someone I'm sure you'd like to meet..."

A man, wearing Cerberus uniform topped by one of those horrible baseball caps, turned from his place at the observation window.

"Hey Commander, long time no see!"

"Joker? What… What are you doing here?" I asked incredulously, while shaking his hand.

"Well, I was offered the chance to take part in another neck-breaking adventure with my most favorite commander. I couldn't resist. Besides, after we lost the Normandy, the Alliance had me grounded and you know I'm only half a man without my pilot seat… Are you alright? They told me you wouldn't be up for another four weeks…"

"Yeah, guess 'alright' is a relative term… I better get used to the notion that until recently I was very dead. So from that point of view, everything which has me breathing now is an improvement, right?"

"Cheerful as always. Hey…" He stepped a little closer and lowered his voice. A quick look around showed Miranda out of earshot and discussing the contents of a datapad with Jacob. "How was it? Dying, I mean…"

I shrugged. "Imagine falling into a dark hazy dream; the kind that leaves you with no memory, but a really bad feeling. Now add an infinity of pain and you get some fair idea..."

"Commander, I… I'm sorry. Really. If it wasn't for you coming back… It should have been me going down with the Normandy, not you..."

I waved it away. "Bosh. It's not true and you know it. Given the chance, I would do it again every time. Besides," a small laugh escaped me, "do you really think Cerberus would have spent a fortune to bring _you_ back?"

"No, they won'… Hey! Are you telling me I'm _not_ the most awesome helmsman this universe has ever seen?"

I winked at him. "For me? Anytime. For Cerberus, though? Not so sure_…_"

"Speaking of which… You're not the only one they revived." Suddenly he looked the very image of a man with a new and _really_ expensive toy. "Look," Joker pointed towards the windows of the space station, "they take her out for her first ride…"

There was a ship. A huge ship. A ship I was very familiar with… The… Normandy? "Wow…"

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" he whispered solemnly. I had never seen Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau anywhere near solemn.

Unobtrusively, I pinched myself. Perhaps it was all just a feverish dream and I had just nodded off at Pressly's drone. I stopped because my nails drew blood. Fuck, I wasn't dreaming.

"And she's all ours… Well, aside from our two Cerberus nannies, here." He turned to me again, a big grin suddenly plastered on his face. "By the way, I do like this new outfit. Makes you look kind of… harmless. I could almost mistake you for one of those sorry freaks collecting little piggy figurines instead of headshots and…"

I threw up my hands in despair and shouted, "Miranda! Please, please tell me there are clothes on this blasted station… No matter what, anything _not_ pink will do." Even a potato sack would be better than my current misery.

The taller woman walked over to me and bestowed me with one of her small, precise smiles. "Don't worry, Commander, I've something even better..."

Something better she had indeed. Spandex and a new black armor, looking almost like my old N7. And the best? For once the universe had mercy with me; no Cerberus logo in sight.

_Yee-ha, _some splendid news: I didn't have to greet my new crew looking like just broken out from Moron City. From here things could only go upwards, right?

* * *

I heaved a sigh and focused on my surroundings once more. I stood in the entry of one of the larger living complexes, trying to force a clue at what had happened here on Freedom's Progress into announcing itself by the sheer power of my will. If my life were a video game, by now there would have certainly been a huge arrow popping up somewhere, stating "Check out this box – major hint inside". As it was though, I was confronted with the sobering reality: I had no frigging idea what was going on and why. I just knew, bereft of all its inhabitants, the colony felt like an empty shell.

I picked up a green plush dino, discarded to the floor, once belonging to a little boy or girl. They even took the kids… It was sad. Just heart-wrenching sad. My fists clenched by themselves. Whoever had done this had a hellishly lot to answer for… And a really big package of pain with their name tag attached in waiting.

The Terminus Systems weren't a particularly safe area, so most colonies there had at least a small militia and some rudimental means to defend themselves against pirates, slavers and other criminals, who'd believe the colonists easy meat. The absence of any noticeable signs of resistance worried me. Either Freedom Progress' colonists had known the attackers or… or the enemy had stroke out with sheer overpowering force.

"Commander! I think we found something!" Taylor announced with a shout to capture my attention. I sat the toy onto the cabinet near the door and headed out of the building, towards the two Cerberus agents, hunching over something on the ground.

I looked over Lawson's shoulder at a… bug, the size of my palm. No, not really a bug; a small synthetic unit looking like an insect, perfectly constructed with translucent wings and a dark, glistering carapace. My guts told me that we were not looking at some new fancy kid's toy.

"What the friggin' hell is that…" I mumbled in puzzlement.

"No idea, Commander. I've never seen its like…" Shestated, and carefully nudged the thing with her finger. Suddenly it started to glow as if powering up; clapping its wings in a wild staccato to rise for several inches. Instinctively, we all drew back. As abrupt as it had started, the energy vanished again and the bug dropped to the ground.

I eyed the mini bot askew. "Whoa – guess we better take you with us…"

"Agreed." Lawson nodded and procured a small plastic box, devised to contain probes, from the satchel dangling down her side. With a pair of small tongs, also from her bag, she grabbed the bug and put it into the box. Then she pulled out a roll of Duct Tape and wrapped it tightly around the plastic. She shrugged at me. "Better safe than sorry."

What other gadgets and utilities were hidden away in that bag? An idea struck me. "Hey… You don't have by chance anything eatable in there? I'm starving…"

She dug out another energy bar - and instantly my mouth watered as if she had presented me the finest T-bone steak. Oh, my. Was there _anything_ to stop my free fall into patheticness?

Taylor had turned away from us and watched the perimeter. We were in a wide corridor, flanked left and right by the standardized two-storied living complexes, the Systems Alliance's Frontier Division built up in all its colonies. His posture tensed. "Something's off. We should…"

There.

"Heads up! Hostiles from the left!" I shouted and skittered into cover behind the stairs leading to the second floor of the left building. Right in time – for only seconds later a small fleet of security drones arrived, firing missiles at us. A low boom made me peek around the stairs. A YMIR Mech completed the not-so-welcoming committee. Great. Just great. And all I had was my little gun and the doubtful capacity five of those thermal clips provided…

I gestured towards Lawson, who kneeled behind a crate across from me and together we overloaded the shields of the mech to allow Taylora critical hit at its sensors. Rockets sizzled around my ears and I took the nearest drones out with my gun. Two down, and another six to go. Piece of cake.

"Shepard?" A new voice suddenly shouted incredulously over the gun fire from above me. I raised my head to find a very familiar and utterly unexpected shape armed with a shotgun, looking down from the balcony.

"Hey Tali, care to lend us a hand?"

* * *

I stared at the paused video tape, feeling like hit between the eyes. "Damn it, are you sure?"

"I'm afraid so, Shepard…" my quarian friend said worriedly and pointed at one of figures on the screen, "Look here, the triangular head, the chitinous exoskeleton; they match the descriptions perfectly."

I released another string of vile curses and kicked against the nearby wall. If that was some kind of joke, then it ranked with throwing a toaster in your bathwater or sticking your hands into an uninsulated high-voltage power line.

Alright, the universe had coughed up the requested clue and what could I say? It did so _not_ hint at some ragged thugs suffering of the delusion to come back at the Alliance in some dubious act of revenge. _No-ooo_, of course it _had_ to be some obscure race of baleful insectoids, which suddenly had the brilliant idea to pimp up their rainy afternoons with ransacking human colonies. Figures.

"Okay," I said, while massaging my temples. A headache was coming. No surprise there. "So what facts do we have about the Collectors?"

Tali shrugged. "As I said, the Flotilla itself never encountered them, but the records state of occasional sightings in the Terminus Systems. It's presumed they come through the Omega 4 relay, but so far I haven't heard of any proof this theory."

"Bastards are trading tech and weapons for slaves," Taylor said scowling from his look out at the bunker's entrance. In unison, three pairs of concentrated female skepticism fastened on him, forcing him into elaboration. "I once engaged a band of slavers on Omega and they had disturbingly advance tech with them. Claimed it to be of Collector's origin."

Peachy. Just damn peachy. "So essentially, we knew close to nothing, right?" My question was met with silence, so I turned to the dark haired woman, who was uploading the video footage into the Normandy's database for further examination. "Well, Miranda; now would be the perfect timing to reveal that Cerberus entertains secret archives with detailed information about the Collectors' bio data, combat strategies and breakfast preferences…"

"It's just that pretty simple for you, isn't it?" she replied sourly. "We _have _classified records on non-council species, but our data concerning the Collectors is just as scarce as the Flotilla's. That's why we should take Veetor, Shepard, he's evidence."

"No, Shepard," Tali huffed, "I won't allow Cerberus to abduct him! He needs the care of his people and no interrogation by those xenophobes!"

In front of me, Veetor was hugging himself, rocking back and forth in his chair. The poor guy was scared out of his mind and I gazed at Lawson in disbelief.

"Will you just _look _at him, Miranda! He's as done as a potato boiled soft. The only thing he can possibly evidence is that his wits made a run for the next solar system! We have everything we need; he goes with Tali!"

The Cerberus agent was about to object again, her face darkening. She must be tearing me apart in her head limb by limb – too bad it was me holding the reins of that operation, and she knew it. After another eternity in which we stared at each other like strange cats in an alley, she exhaled, forcing down her ire.

"Fine, Commander. It will be as you say."

I nodded. "And I'm sure Tali's willing to send us all the details, if Veetor remembers anything important. Isn't it _so_?" I asked the quarian with a raised brow. Better to choke off any smug replies of hers beforehand; otherwise the Cerberus agent might yet explode like a box of lit firecrackers.

"Yes, I'll do. Promise. Thank you, Shepard." Tali gave me quick hug then maneuvered Veetor out of his chair.

She was about to head for the exit, as I touched her arm, halting her steps. "Tali… Will you join me on the Normandy?"

For a moment she considered my question. Then she shook her head and I got the impression her regret was really sincere. "Sorry, Shepard. The mission for the Flotilla is my first priority. And Cerberus…" She pointedly looked at the two agents. "You might have your good reasons for this… but _I_ don't trust those treacherous _bosh'tet_. Hope you know what you're doing… Take care. I'll contact you, okay?"

I dropped my hand, resigned. I had my serious doubts about that.


	2. Chapter: Another day in paradise

Chapter 2 ~ Another day in paradise

"Cerberus," the female sounding, synthetic voice that had introduced itself as EDI, replied, "set great attention on optimizing the ships internal layout to ensure high-rated functionality, while providing maximized convenience for the crew. This included also an enhancement of the elevator's hydraulic engines, which were standard on all frigates until 2184."

I looked around the Normandy's lift. Yepp, the thing was definitely an improvement – compared to the SR-1's, it was almost like driving in a sports car instead of pushing a bike.

"Thank you for the tour, EDI." I inclined my head towards the blue sphere floating above the console, which indicated the presence of the ship's AI. Although completely unnecessary, it created for us mere humans the illusion of talking to something with actual substance. And the illusion of privacy, as soon as the orb vanished. I hoped my gesture emanated the very image of cordial and respectful harmlessness, as intended. With synthetics, especially a high-developed and self-aware AI, you better make sure to cross all your _t_'s and dot all your _i_'s.

I was reaching the end of my round trip, all guided by the so-far-friendly little elf Cerberus had the guts to install on _my_ ship. When I embarked earlier with Joker and the two Cerberus agents, there had been only time for a short introduction to the crew, before I closeted myself with Miranda and Jacob to discuss what we had so far. To my surprise, though, Joker wasn't the only familiar face in the small crowd. Dr. Chakwas also left behind the most honorable Alliance Service to hire with a group of extremists with more than doubtful intentions. Just because of me. Oh, hell, how was I supposed to ever make good on that? The universe simply didn't come with enough ice-brandy for it.

In any case, I was really glad to have the Doc aboard. Not only because she was amazingly skilled in patching you up, even with nothing but a dull needle and a band-aid, but also because we had come to an unspoken understanding. I allowed her to fuss over me without complaining, and she would stitch me together again - without lamenting, either. It was a good and solid agreement.

"Here we are," the AI spoke up, interrupting my musings. "Commander, these are _your_ quarters." EDI sounded almost pleased and I stepped into the next room.

_Damn…_ The captain's quarters were a crossbreed between stylish apartment and top-notch business lounge, complete with a spacious bed, couch, _two_ desks and... Oh, this a fish tank? What was wrong with these Cerberus guys?

I looked around in wonder. The room was big. Much bigger than what I was used to from the first Normandy. What a waste. Then again, if our dearest TIM was any reference for Cerberus' commanding units, their captains most likely needed all the space just to house their egos…

"I think I'll place my stuff right here," I said and put the gun from the lab – I found out it was indeed an ERCS, except that the model line was called "Predator" these days – on the almost clinically clean and empty desk. So far, nobody had asked me to return the gun, thus I'd been merciful and seized custodianship of the lonely thing. It was my most prized possession. And not just because it was my only one. Hey, a girl like me was nothing without her gun.

"The Illusive Man was aware of your lack of personal belongings. There is a choice of clothing and other necessities in the closet. Feel free to see them as your own."Once again the AI gave off the impression of personal pride at being able to help me out. I shook my head. It probably was just my way too vivid imagination again.

I opened the doors of the wardrobe to peep inside and inspect my new possessions; carefully, in case another pink fashion crime would jump me. To my relief there were just the standard crew uniforms with some additional shirts, sweat pants and jackets. I pulled out the drawer, fully expecting the vile and dead-ugly standardized white body linen. Ugh. I'd rather go commando, than let them defile my skin.

Except… there was an armada of classy bras and panties, all in exquisite quality. I should know; a small fortune had constantly flowed from me to Elysium's Exclusive Bodywear. Apparently, it wasn't below Cerberus to snoop through the bank accounts of the deceased and use the information to bribe them into compliance. This had to be Miranda's work - at least it was what I told myself. The ridiculous image of the Illusive Man rummaging through my underwear kept intruding my mind, though, and I suddenly had to fight down hysterical giggles bubbling up. Oh, dear. Perhaps it would be a good idea to ask the Doc to raise my medication…

After reassuring EDI one more time that I appreciated her efforts – really, I did indeed, the AI was astonishingly pleasant for, well, an AI - I was finally left to my own devises. In a flash I discarded my armor and the spandex I wore underneath to the floor, pulled out some random clothes from the wardrobe and made a beeline for the shower. Mhmmm… Hey, after all it was two years since my last wash; a little anticipation was completely in order.

A look in the bathroom's mirror revealed why the Doc earlier had virtually itched to drag me into the Med Bay, as soon as I'd finished my little speech for the crew. So far, I had been just too busy to notice, but my face was a mess. Thin, red welts were criss-crossing my cheeks and forehead, a neat reminder of the miraculous feat Miranda and her team had accomplished. I peered at the wounds closely. They looked almost normal, except… they were way too symmetrical for normal wounds. _Uhh, better not asking what lies below…_

I inspected the rest of my body. My skin glowed at me with the aristocratic complexion of finest monitor tan. Or more precisely: like a butt that hadn't seen the sun in quite a long time. A few liver spots, none of them in places where _I_ remembered them, were the only disruptors of the creamy surface. No injuries and no marks… and I meant 'no' as in 'nothing'. Nada. Zip. I brushed over my stomach. The scar from Feros was gone; as was the one from N.Y.C., and all the other big and small, silent witnesses of my life's journey. Quickly, I turned to look at my back. Where I was used to seeing swirls of black ink covering my shoulder blades down to the small of my back, nothing but unmarred skin displeased my eyes. I grimaced at the woman in the mirror. _Screw me_. I'd really loved the tattoo and with my distrust of needles it had taken quite some courage to get it.

I flipped the shower on and, waiting for the water to heat, I combed through my hair with my fingers. It was noticeably shorter than usual, barely touching my shoulders. Plus, as another courtesy of Lazarus, its honey-colored strands had also paled into an undefined tangle. I sighed. Nothing to be done there either; so I shoved those fits of vanity aside.

As I stood under the balmy spray of water, I realized something else. I had thinned. Noticeably. True, I was never particularly heavy framed to begin with, but over ten years serving in the military had provided me with strong muscles. Now, my waist was almost as slim as on the day I entered the Alliance, and as a kid of the street, regular meals had certainly not been one of the pillars of my life. However, while fighting and shooting around on Freedom's Progress I had never felt weakened for a second. Quite the opposite, to be honest… Sure, they certainly had to use a lot of high-end tech to reanimate me, but this? When I thought about it, Miranda was indeed pretty vague about the whole topic… Which immediately stirred up some decidedly unsettling questions: How far did they really go? Was I still me, or did their _upgrades_ mess with my mind as well?

Despite the hot water running down my back, I shivered.

I was a stranger in my own body.

* * *

~V~

* * *

"Listen, Kervol, so far I've been really patient with you; so much more than you deserve. Let's try this one more time: Who. The Hell. Gave. The Order." With each word I pressed the barrel a little tighter to the batarian's temple. We were in a dim alley not far away from the back entry of one of Omega's sleazy clubs. Nobody would give a damn about us. And he would talk. Soon.

Kervol's sort feasted on Omega's bowls like scavengers on a pile of corpses. They sickened me; spending their sorry existence in the shadows of the really bad guys; lurking and waiting until they saw a chance to strike - preferably at someone already lying beaten on the ground and scared stiff. I knew. I just interrupted his recent… amusement.

"It…" he started stammering, eyes darting around wildly to search for a way out. There was none. I nudged him with my Stinger, inviting him to keep going. "It was a m-merc. Eclipse. A woman, tall. Human or asari. She p-paid me well and… please, I… c-couldn't see her face. I… didn't ask… Ahhh!"

It was all rubbish. A dead end. Again. I suppressed the urge to leash out in pure frustration. Of course he hadn't questioned the money, greedy bastard that he was. And of course he hadn't looked too closely either, abject coward that he was. A gurgling sound caught my attention and I felt fingers clawing franticly at my hand. _Ah, yes_… I unclenched the grip I had on Kervol's throat. Not that I accidentally missed some of that important information he still might have to share, like delivering a package for a guy wearing a dark cloak and a gun.

"P-please… It's all I know…" His four eyes widened even more and his voice obtained a panicked edge, which I refused to acknowledge.

Useless. Why was I not surprised? The batarian saw something in my face that forced his heart into a staccato of wild drums. The pistol in my hand twitched, eager to proceed.

_Yes, yes, kill him! _A female, turian voice whispered in my head. _Just do it, the fucker deserves it!_

"Well, isn't it ironic?" I asked him idly, although I felt anything but. "You're gonna die with the same terror you've been so eager to dish out just a few moments ago. Justice, wouldn't you say?"

_Damn it, Garrus, are you mad?_ A second voice suddenly spoke up. The deeper timbre of a grown woman; a voice used to command. _That's no justice, that's a friggin' execution!_

Be it as it may, but someone had to do the job. And the universe… Well, it just was of the design that what was right and what had to be done, simply refused to be congruent.

_Please, Garrus… Do it, do it for me… _The first voice spoke up again. _It will make me happy… Don't you think I've earned some happiness, hmm?_

_Vakarian, will you stop listening to that bullshit, for fuck's sake? You're better than that._

Perhaps, I once had been that man… But _he_ was as gone as yesteryear's pride.

_If you have any honor left, you'd revenge me…_

_Revenge?_ The second voice spat out in scorn._ Hah! Revenge will never fill up the horrible emptiness you feel inside…_

I tilted my head to listen to the argument. Slowly, the realization dawned on me that I was probably tethering on the edge of madness. And the worst of it? I couldn't even work up a sliver of worry upon hearing their voices rambling in my head…

_Why don't you leave me alone? _I asked them in a last attempt to defend my sanity. It silenced their bitching only temporarily.

The foul stench of Kervol's fear assaulted my nostrils. Had I said the last aloud? I didn't matter. "Any last words before you face your creator? Make an effort, perhaps he'll have mercy with you…" At that, the batarian struggled even harder. My grip on his throat tightened again. He stood no chance. He was weak and I was filled with a dark and hungry need to avenge that fueled me with strength way above my limits.

_You're the worst frigging idiot this universe has ever seen! Haven't you learned anything?_

Oh, I'd learned much. Especially, that the galaxy was a cold and cruel place, infested with evil. This lesson had been particularly explicit.

_Garrus. The team… We lost our lives to this battle… Was it all for nothing?_

No. Never that… Their deaths shouldn't have been in vain... I couldn't abandon another cause, as I had hers. I owed it to them.

_Fool._

_I'm sorry, Shepard…_

I pulled the trigger, accompanied by Mierin's wild laughter.

* * *

~V~

* * *

Omega.

For some, the pit of doom that would swallow first their consciences, and then their souls without hesitation; for others a writhing succubus that made even the wildest of their dark little fantasies come true. For me it was nothing but a filthy midden heap, masquerading with the luring front of a varnished whore. I had so hoped never to return to that cursed rock in the middle of nowhere, but as usual…

Straight after Freedom's Progress, the Illusive Man sent over five dossiers on possible squad members. Three of them were on Omega, which made the choice of our next destination pretty obvious.

And just like that I'd won another day in sinner's paradise. Murphy fucking hated me.

My first visit lay over eight years back – ten, if you counted my recent absence in. It was one of the early missions I had during the N4 training. Normally, the Alliance knew better than to poke around in the Terminus Systems, except at that time it wasn't about standard procedures but about a very personal favor for the Fleet Admiral and the very dead body of a politician's daughter…

_I followed Fletcher through the masses of shifting bodies. With my blonde hair below a cap and nondescript dark cloths I could almost feel how people's gaze bent around me; my appearance already forgotten as soon as I stepped out of their line of view. "Blending in" was Commander Ripley's order and so I did. It came to me naturally._

_As soon as I'd set a foot on Omega, something very familiar had washed over my subconscious, forcing me to snap into a mode of high alertness like a reflex. It had nothing to do with the things I saw and everything with the certain 'feel' that permeated the air: a constant trace of danger, of things living in the dark, of pitfalls and traps waiting to catch you unaware… Living in such a place was like dancing on the edge of a blade. It reminded me of N.Y.C… Even after three years it was… well, like coming home. To a very dangerous and unpleasant home._

_I spared a quick glance around and suppressed the sneer that wanted to form on my face. Too easy I could pick out my fellow team mates, trying vainly for stealth in the overfilled club. Well, they were not _that_ bad, but they just couldn't stop being trained and disciplined soldiers; the drill had already seeped too deeply into them. Once again my obstinate "resistance against any authority," as my superiors called it, proved to be my key advantage. The universe had indeed a fucking strange sense of humor..._

_Ahead of me, Fletcher became increasingly nervous and ducked into a dark corner. He knew someone was following him - just as he should. I smiled. Involuntarily, he handed me the last nail to his coffin himself. I quickened my step and vanished into the dark aisle, as well. There he rounded on me. _

_"Why do follow me? What do you want, girl?" his annoyed growl twisted the otherwise handsome face. With long brown curls and a midsized built, he was the perfect image of the nice guy from the next door. But we already knew that appearances were a treacherous little bitch, right?_

"_Well? Speak up!" Fletcher demanded sharply. Still, he lowered his guards upon the menace presented by someone looking like the young and innocent girl from the next door, herself._

_He of all people should have known better. It was okay though, he would learn differently. They all did. Before he had time to react, I elbowed his stomach, causing him to double over. I grabbed his arm and slammed his back against the wall. There I pinned him, my left forearm almost crushing his windpipe. With my right hand I'd pulled the gun from the holster on the small of my back and shoved it hard against his forehead. And despite his precarious situation, he still was considering a break for the dance floor, I… _felt_ it. I applied more pressure with my arm and shook my head. Then I leaned in and whispered to his ears alone, "What I want? _I_ want nothing. I'm just delivering a message. From Victoria… do swidanja…"_

_It was only then, that he _truly_ looked at me. His eyes widened in sudden realization; like prey, finally spotting the looming predator behind. The knowledge, that death was only moments away. He started to trash, but it wouldn't help him. Fletcher had discovered something in my gaze. Something that had awakened with my arrival; when I first sensed that distinct mood of the place._

_He had found Ivy, and she made him tremble with fear._

_I perfectly understood. She made me, too..._

"Shepard, what's your plan, now? How do we proceed?" Miranda's question pulled me back to the present of Omega's streets, and away from my memories. I took another moment to listen to the depths of myself. Nothing stirred. Good.

Unfortunately, it made me all the more aware of my environment as well. The faint stench of incinerated flesh wrinkled my nose. Lovely. The lower levels were infested by a strange disease, and apparently, they knew only one strategy for plague-control: let'em burn en mass. _Lo and behold!_ A visit to that particular homey district was on the very top of my to-do list. If I could smell it up here, how much worse would it be down there?

I was so freaking lucky, I could have shot myself in the kneecap.

Despite I perfectly knew what they were burning, my stomach growled nonetheless. Damn it, but I was so freaking hungry again. How sick was that? My body burned through the calories that fast, I almost feared they had miswired something in me. It was abnormal. But then again, this whole dying and resurrection business wasn't particularly common either.

"We should go after that Archangel guy first." Jacob offered.

I nodded, and not just so I could delay my next encounter with corpses roasted crispy. Not entirely. "Agreed. He's most likely the one with a time critical agenda."

Part strategically enhanced killer commando, part gunslinging Robin Hood – yeah, that guy made me definitely curious. The dossier also stated him as a noted sniper. That would certainly come in handy, for I had really come to appreciate the luxury of a top-notch sniper watching my sixes…

Inevitably, my thoughts wandered off to my turian friend. My nicely framed inquiry at C-Sec about his whereabouts had been dumped with a not-at-all-nicely rebuke. On the other side, the prospect of meeting another member of my former team, especially him, scared me. What if he expressed the same silent doubts as Tali? Well, I'd burn that bridge when I crossed it…

Miranda's omni-tool flashed to life. "We don't know his exact location. The increased mercenary activity around the southern warehouse district might be a clue, but without further information, we can search this maze for days and still come up empty-handed. I have some contacts here, I'd advise to approach them and…"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, thinking. All of that delicate poking around would take too long. We needed information. Fast. "Aria T'Loak. She will know."

Jacob gave me a long, considering look. "That's risky, Commander, the woman's unpredictable."

I arched an eyebrow at him. Unpredictable? Well, that was familiar ground. "Why not? Let's march up to her and see if we can't shake a few answers loose. It's worth the try; we're running out of time, anyway."

"What? That's your plan? This is no plan at all!" the dark haired woman piped up in alarm.

Right, I forgot. To Miranda, it apparently was only a plan if you meticulously regurgitated each and every detail - and be it ever so unimportant - until you were ready to run giggling into a buzz saw. Well… no buzz saws for me today.

"Have some faith," I winked at her, "isn't this exactly why you brought me back?" I thought I heard her groan faintly, but I was already heading towards the entry of the Afterlife.

* * *

Finding the self-proclaimed Queen of Omega in the club was easy. Getting through to her not so.

"Commander Shepard. I want to see Aria."

"And I want a triple distilled single-malt, while getting my dick sucked..." the turian guard stated bitingly, then looked around in faked surprise and spread his hands. "Ahh, seems we both gonna miss out today."

I rolled my eyes. _Asshole_. "I'm sure if you tell her that Shepard, the _Spectre_, is here, she can spare a few minutes. I'll keep it brief."

"Listen, human: I don't give a fuck if you're Queen of Palaven, Aria's new main squeeze or the next fucking Council Head. She has ordered not to be disturbed and that's it. Get lost!"

_Oh, screw it_; I had no time for that sort of nonsense. Really, this Spectre business wasn't worth two beans. Quickly, I sorted my options. The bodyguard's stance was disadvantageous and he was obviously bored out of his mind. Knocking him out should be not too hard, yet Aria would certainly take it amiss if I manhandled one of her hirelings. Unless…

"Sorry, pal, but you left me no other choice…" I raised my voice. "Did you all hear that? This guy," I pointed at the turian, "said, they'll stop serving any booze in the Afterlife!"

"Oh. My. Goodness! No liquor anymore?" Miranda shouted with a heavy British accent towards the crowd. There were surprisingly many patrons for the fact it was early in the morning. Yeah. Only on Omega. "Blimey, this is scan-da-lous!" At least a dozen pair of ears stopped to listen.

I allowed myself a small grin. In another life, the Cerberus agent would have made a great actress that was sure.

The guard's face had turned a little green around the edges. Talon-tipped hands tried to grab for me, the little agitator, but I danced out of his reach, resuming with my rabble-rousing. "What? And the asari dancers will be replaced by adipose krogans?" _Heh, heh_, that released the proverbial fox onto the hen yard. Within seconds the turian was caught in a desperate attempt for damage limitation, while surrounded by a mob of upset patrons, shouting atop of each other.

"ENOUGH!" A female voice suddenly boomed from above. The crowd fell silent and dispersed hastily. Whatever else they were, they were wise enough to avoid the wrath of Omega's self-proclaimed ruler. "Grizz, what's the meaning of this infernal uproar down there?"

"I'm sorry Aria. This impertinent human there," he now pointed accusingly on _me_, "caused it."

I flipped him off out of Aria's peripheral view, all the while beaming up to the asari with my most nonchalant smile. Hey, I never claimed to be the sharpest knife in the box. "Hello Aria, I'm Commander Shepard, do you got a minute?"

She leaned over the rail and gave me a look-over. "Shepard, hmm? That's a bold statement. _I_ heard she's very dead…"

"Really? Then tell me, all-knowing Queen of Omega, do you actually believe someone exists in the broad expanse of the universe, who's crackbrained enough to claim to be me?"

A snicker floated down from above. "Grizz, let her up! And the next time someone wants to see me, bring it to my attention _before_ they instigate another riot among the guests!"

Reluctantly, Grizz, the under-sucked and under-liquored guard, moved aside with a more than sour face. I was convinced, for an instant he considered to club me with the butt end of his gun. Oh, my… I certainly ensured to make a new special friend every day_.._.

I motioned towards my two Cerberus agents to wait; then climbed the stairs to meet Her Haughtiness. Shepard: one; Omega: zero. All thanks to my special investigation tactic "Making noise until the guilty party comes to shut you up" – worked in nine out of ten cases. Fool-proof; so to say.

"What do you want, Shepard, who just recently returned from afterlife?" the asari asked me smugly, as I reached her throwing on her couch arrangement.

_Haha, very funny. _Although it made me wince inwardly, I kept my face smooth and sat down next to her, giving me unperturbed and deliberately ignoring the bait. I certainly wasn't about to tell the most dangerous creature of this lousy rock my dirty little secrets - I was not _that_ stupid.

"Archangel."

With a mocking smile, Aria reclined in her seat and crossed her legs with an almost obscene deliberateness. "So does half of Omega. His petty game will be over by nightfall... I know what you aren't, _Spectre_," out of her mouth it sounded almost like an insult, "no merc, no criminal. And still you seek one of our most wanted. Why? What are you? Diligent bounty hunter? Betrayed business partner? Scorned lover?" the last was voiced with low seductive edge. _Oh, yeah_, definitely a very dangerous creature. Unfortunately, situations like those always failed to intimidate me. Probably a gene defect.

I fixed her with my best no-nonsense gaze. "Neither. I need him alive."

"Alive?" She raised what was supposed to be an eyebrow at me. "Why should I help you? Why should I even care?"

It was my turn to get all smug. Other knew the game as well. "Maybe, it's just because you don't necessarily want to see him dead? C'mon, Aria… I know if you really wanted it, he'd have since long bit the dust..."

The throaty laugh was back. "You're a player, Shepard, I like this. It's courageous. As long as you don't forget that the rules are mine to make... Granted, he proved to be a convenient distraction in the beginning; and by removing those annoying upstarts… Let's say my business received a well noted boost. His motivations though…" She made a waving motion with her hand, loading her words with scorn. "Ludicrous. Nobody will turn Omega into a safe haven. Not now, not ever!"

"I see…" _Pissing off the really big fish just to make the world a better place? Call me sold. "_Why's he a problem now?"

"He turned into a loose cannon. Blasted too many deals and too many important heads, so... The mercs are enraged to no end; they even formed a temporary association to root him out." Her voice dropped to match Noveria's surface temperature and her eyes hardened, two violet crystals ready to cut you into pieces. "He turned from a tool into a menace for my business, Shepard – and _this I won't tolerate_. However…" Within seconds, she switched back to all pleasant chit-chat.

Okay. That was kinda creepy.

"I'll consider his former usefulness, so you may take him with you - that is, if you find him alive…"

"Where's he?"

"The easiest way is to go through the Blue Suns' recruiting office downstairs. Tell them you're a freelancer and they'll bring you into the heart of the battle. The rest is up to you. Enjoy your stay in Sin City."

I couldn't help my snort. "Will do. Thank you for your time, Aria." I nodded towards her and got up to go.

Before I reached the stairs I heard her speak up again. I turned and saw her standing; head high, radiating power and awe like the queen she so much liked to presume to be. It was always all about the drama, right?

"Run, little Spectre, or all that will be left is a puddle of blue blood!"

At that I almost stumbled on my way down the stairs.

_Blue blood? _

Seemed I could lay my hands on a turian sniper after all…


End file.
